


Twilight but Gay

by wonderwomanspowerbottom



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Bella actually has a personality, Bella has anxiety, Bella smokes weed, Everyone's gay, F/F, F/M, Gay Bella Swan, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26382328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderwomanspowerbottom/pseuds/wonderwomanspowerbottom
Summary: Basically, if Bella Swan was a lesbian and fell in love with Rosalie Hale.
Relationships: Carlisle Cullen/Esme Cullen, Charlie Swan/Original Female Character(s), Emmett Cullen/Jasper Hale, Jacob Black/Edward Cullen, Rosalie Hale/Bella Swan
Comments: 9
Kudos: 91
Collections: The Twilight Saga by Stephenie Meyer, Twilight, Twilight FanFiction, Twilight Fanfiction





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I hope everyone enjoys my first chapter of this fanfiction. Now just a fair warning, there is a panic attack in this chapter, so if that could be triggering for you, please proceed with caution.Enjoy:)

I never gave much thought to how I would die. I mean, I was hoping that it would be a nice, easy death, perhaps peacefully passing away in my sleep and my ten cats eating my face off until someone noticed a foul smell coming from my house. I was optimistic. But of course, life is never that simple. It had to be vampires.

  
As I stood there, staring down my hunter’s face, all I could think about was the people I was leaving behind. But it was worth it to save the people I loved.

My mom drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down, the Phoenix heat causing sweat to roll down my neck and onto the back of my tee. The shirt in question was a Nirvana t-shirt two sizes too big; Renee hated it. My mom hated a lot of things about me, mainly the fact that I’m a fag. You would think with how carefree and progressive my mother was that she would get over my attraction to women. Still, unfortunately, homophobia is a disease that doesn’t have much of a cure—that’s why I was moving to Forks, Washington. Charlie didn’t even question why I wanted to move in with him; he was just happy that he got to see me for more than two weeks at a time. And honestly, I missed my Dad. Yeah, he’s a small-town sheriff with a slight drinking problem, but he never judged me for the clothes I wear or the music I listened to. Plus, he and I are so much alike; we seem to understand each other in a way that I never did with my mom.

  
I boarded the plane with a slight hug, and a mumbled ‘be safe’ from my mom. I was surprised she didn’t just drop me off at the airport entrance and speed away in her Honda Civic. Three and a half hours later, I landed in Seattle, Washington, where my dad was waiting for me in his bomber sheriff’s jacket and his infamous mustache. I’ve never seen that man without hair on his top lip, and I don’t think I ever will.

  
“Bella, it’s good to see you,” my dad mumbled into my hair as he gave me one of his stress-melting hugs. Ever since I was a little kid, my dad’s hugs could cure anything; whether I was sad, hurt, or angry, my dad’s hugs always made my problems go away.

  
“It’s good to see you too, Dad,” when we stepped away from each other, I saw tears glistening in my dad’s chocolate brown eyes, though he would never admit it. I only had two bags with me since my wardrobe wasn’t designed for the weather madness that was Forks, Washington, and soon we were on our way home. The car ride home was mainly silent, but comfortable, easy silence. Neither Charlie nor I were great talkers, so it was always easy for us to sit in companionable silence. It had always been that way, ever since I was a little girl. I had always hated leaving him behind in Forks to go back to Arizona, but now I guess I won’t have to ever again.

  
“Oh, by the way, I found a good car for you, real cheap,” my head spun around to look at Charlie so fast I almost got whiplash.

  
“Holy shit Dad, are you serious? That’s awesome! What kind of car is it?”

  
“Language,” my Dad gave me his best serious face, and I just rolled my eyes, “it’s an old Chevy truck. I got a good deal on it from Billy Black.”

  
“Who’s that?”

  
“Oh, he used to go fishing with us when you would come up for the summer.”

  
That would be why I didn’t remember him then. Even though my dad and I are similar in many ways, I could never stand going fishing with him. And I tended to repress any negative memories from my childhood.

  
“He got in an accident a few years ago, and he decided to give me a good deal on the thing. It runs great, trust me.”

  
“What year is it?” the face Charlie made as a response gave me my answer.

  
“Well, Billy’s done a lot of work to the engine over the years- it’s only a few years old, really.”

  
For a second, I contemplated arguing over the vehicle’s age, but another critical question came to mind. “How much does the truck cost?”

  
The corners of Charlie’s mouth lifted into a smile, “Well, Bells, I sorta already bought the truck for you, as a welcome home present.”

  
I could feel my eyes bug out as stared at him in astonishment, “Dad, that--that’s amazing! Thank you so much; I don’t even know what to say. God, that’s so awesome!”

  
Charlie looked away in embarrassment; he was never good at receiving compliments. Just one more thing we had in common. The ride into Forks was absolute beauty; tall trees covered root to limbs with green moss, bright green ferns covered the woods’ vast expanse. Everywhere you looked was a green wilderness, and I absolutely loved it. Forks was the one place I felt welcome in this world, and I was determined not to leave it again.

  
Soon we pulled up to Charlie’s place. He still lived in the same small, two-story house. The bottom floor was only the kitchen, a small laundry room, and a living room-dining room, and the upstairs was only two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a tiny linen closet. Charlie bought it when he and my mom first got married, and he’d lived in it ever since. There, parked in the street in front of the house, was my new/old car. It was a faded red color, with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. It looked like a tank and was solid iron. I absolutely fucking loved it. I wasn’t sure if it was going to run, but at that moment, I didn’t give two shits.

  
“Wow, Dad, this thing is amazing! Thank you so much!” without waiting for a response, I hopped out of my dad’s police cruiser and checked the truck out. The inside was just as old and worn out as the outside, with frayed seatbelts, an old radio, and a cracked steering wheel. The inside smelled like cigar smoke and pine cones, and it felt like I was finally home, where I belonged. Suddenly my shitty day at school tomorrow wouldn’t be made worse by getting dropped off in Charlie’s cruiser or walking five miles in the rain to school.

  
It only took one trip upstairs to unload all of my things from the car. My room looked the same since the last time I was here. The only difference was a brand new purple comforter with matching pillows on my queen-sized bed, and a second-hand computer on the desk by the window. Everything else was the same; the baby blue walls, the peaked ceiling, the yellow laced curtains hanging from the window - all comforting memories from my childhood. The familiarities were comforting as I started to unpack my things. The rocking chair from my baby days was still in the corner of my bedroom. Soon tears formed in my eyes as the comfort of my childhood bedroom fell over me.

  
One of the best things about Charlie is that he doesn’t hover.

He left me alone to unpack and get settled, and I was grateful for the solitude. It was nice to be alone, not having to smile and look happy because I wasn’t happy. Not really. And don’t get me wrong, I was happy to live with Charlie after being apart for so long; I just hated why I came to live with him.

  
When I told my mom I liked girls, you would’ve thought I killed our neighbor by how she reacted. I was sixteen, and I was about to go on a date with a girl at school. I came home that day so excited to tell my mom what happened. I figured that no matter what that she would support me, but I was very wrong.

  
“Bella, no child of mine will be a faggot, do you understand me? I will not let you be a disgrace to our family! And if I see or hear that you’re involved with that girl, or any girl romantically, you’re out of my house! Go to your room!” I went to my room, shellshocked. I had assumed that she would’ve been a little bit weirded out by it, but I didn’t expect her to react the way that she did. Six months later, and there I was, standing in my father’s house fifteen hundred miles away from my mom, feeling more alone than I ever had in my entire life.

Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty-seven, now fifty-eight, students; there were more than seven hundred people in my junior class alone back in Phoenix. All of the kids here grew up together; their grandparents had been toddlers together. I would be the new girl in a town where everyone knew each other, and that terrified me. I already had crippling anxiety, and the thought of going to school tomorrow was about to send me into a panic attack.

Maybe if I looked like a girl from Phoenix should, I could work this to my advantage. But I wasn’t anything like the girls back home. I guess you could say. . . I’m not like other girls. But seriously, I look like a ghost with an iron deficiency on a good day. And my physique could use some help. The last time I had to run a mile for school, I passed out after five minutes. Although that could be because of all the cannabis I was smoking. My thin brown hair could barely hold a curl, my lips were too thin, my forehead was an inch too big, and my eyes were nice poop color; the only thing I liked about my face was my nose, and the moles scattered across my translucent white skin. My body was just average; nothing special going on upstairs or downstairs. The perfect definition of a basic bitch. And my hand-eye coordination? Non-existent. Watching me play sports was like watching a drunk toddler walking across the room, hilarious and deeply concerning.

  
After putting my meager wardrobe into the old pine dresser in my room, I walked into the bathroom that I shared with Charlie (I was trying not to ponder that fact for too long) to put up my bathroom necessities. After that, I busted out my hairbrush to tame the rats’ nest that was my hair. As I looked at my sad reflection in the mirror, all the anxiety that I had bottled up from the past few months came bubbling up in my throat. My eyes began to water, and my heart started jack rabbitting in my chest. My face went white, and my entire body started to shake and grow weak as I sunk to the tile floor in exhaustion.

  
‘Great,’ I thought to myself, ‘a panic attack on my first day back in Forks.’ The panic attack gripped me, and tears started to flow out of my eyes. My arms and legs went limp, and soon I was utterly immobile and stuck on the cold tile floor. I tried to get myself up to get to my room, but my body wasn’t cooperating. My panic attacks are never uneventful. I laid there for an unknown amount of time, trying not to attract Charlie to my vulnerable state. I didn’t want him to think I wasn’t happy to be there.

  
Eventually, I was able to get myself up off the floor and hobble to my bedroom. As you could probably tell, I wasn’t very excited about going to school the next day. I was never good at making friends my age. I had never been able to find my people at my gigantic school in Phoenix, so how was I supposed to find my people in a small town like Forks? My social anxiety was bad enough; I didn’t need the added stress of going to a new school with people I didn’t know to have bad anxiety. The thought of meeting all of those judgmental faces was about to send me into another panic attack. Quickly I got up, even though my iron deficiency protested greatly, and went to my dresser where I hid my ‘special’ candies. Yes, I broke federal law and flew across state lines with class one paraphernalia; sue me. I popped one in my mouth, sunk onto my bed, and tried to get my breathing under control. Eventually, I faded into sleeping oblivion.

Surprisingly, I slept great that night. The rain against my window soothed me to sleep, and I dreamed about the sun streaming through a vast green canopy of trees, welcoming me home. Thick fog was all I could see outside my window, and my anxiety crept in. It felt like a bad omen for a bad day, and that feeling didn’t shake off in the slightest.

  
Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet but soothing event. Charlie left before me, and it gave me a chance to see what my dad’s been up to. Nothing looked out of the ordinary; the old oak table I was currently sitting at was in the same spot as it had been since I was a child. The walls were covered in dark paneling and bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floors lined the kitchen. Nothing had changed in seventeen years. Over the small fireplace in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a row of pictures. First was a picture of Charlie and me in our fishing gear by the water, then a picture of him and his brother, who passed away five years ago from AIDS, followed by a procession of school photos. Sadness crept into my mind as I realized how lonely Charlie must have been all this time living by himself.

  
“I need to find someone for him before I go to college,” I mused to myself as I walked out the door to greet the no doubt stressful day ahead.

  
It was drizzling still, not enough to soak through my clothes immediately as I reached for the house key that was hidden under the eaves by the door and locked up. I paused to admire my new truck, feeling the first flutter of hope in the past few days. At least if my first day at school was terrible, I had something to give me serotonin.

  
Finding the school wasn’t difficult, though I’d never been there before. The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It wasn’t obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be Forks High School, made me stop. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubbery. I couldn’t see it’s size at first. It was a nice change of pace from the mammoth that was my old school in Phoenix.

  
I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door that read FRONT OFFICE. No one else was parked there, so I was sure it was off-limits, but I decided I would get directions inside instead of circling in the rain like an idiot. As I was about to step out of my toasty truck to enter the school, my anxiety spun back and smacked me in the face. My breathing went shallow, so I put my head on my steering wheel and tried to do my breathing exercises. In and out. In and out. In and out. Eventually, I got my breathing under control and popped in the edible I snuck with me from my secret hiding spot in my room. There was no way I would be able to get through the day without THC. After five minutes of breathing exercises, I tripped out of my car and walked up the school’s stone walkway to the door. I took a deep breath and walked through the school entrance.

  
Inside, it was brightly lit and warmer than I could've dreamed. The office was small and cute in its own way; there was a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, and a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large terra cotta pots, and a smile stretched across my face as I spotted a lavender plant in the corner. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a plump, red-haired woman wearing horn-rimmed glasses. She had on a blue dress with a grey cardigan, and I immediately felt comfortable with her. She reminded me of the girl I wanted to date six months ago, and a sense of bittersweetness washed over me.

  
The woman looked up and smiled, “Can I help you?”

  
I smiled back and responded, “Hi, I’m Bella Swan,” and saw the immediate awareness light in her eyes.

  
“Oh! You’re Charlie’s daughter, right?” I raised an eyebrow at her question. Charlie? Not Chief Swan? Did this woman have a crush on my dad? I saw her last name on her badge, which said Ms. Smith.

  
“Do you know my dad?” My suspicions were confirmed by the blush that spread across her freckled cheeks.

  
She let out an embarrassed laugh, “Oh, yes. He and I went to high school together. How is he?”

  
A smile spread across my face, “He’s doing good. Ya know, just living his best single life.”

  
I put a little more emphasis on the word single, and Ms. Smith perked up and smiled. After that, she went over my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each class on the map, and gave me several slips to have each teacher sign, which I would bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and wished me good luck for my first day at school. I smiled back and thought to myself, ‘I just made my first friend at my new school. Progress.’

When I went back out to my truck, other students had already started to arrive at school. I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. I was relieved to see that most of the cars were ancient like mine, nothing fancy. At home, I’d lived in one of the few lower-income houses included in the Paradise Valley District. It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche. The nicest car here was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I found a parking spot so that the thunderous volume wouldn’t draw any attention to me.

I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now; hopefully, I wouldn’t have to walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day. The THC from the edible I ate kicked in, and all my anxiety slowly melted away into bliss. With my renewed confidence, I stuffed everything into my backpack, slung the strap over my shoulder, and hopped out of the truck.

I kept my face pulled back into my hood as I walked to the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers. My plain black jacket didn’t stand out, I noticed with relief.

Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black “3” was painted on a white square on the east corner. My anxiety spiked again, and my breathing was gradually moving towards hyperventilation as I approached the door. I held my breathe as I followed two unisex raincoats through the door, and let it out as soon as I stepped inside.

The classroom was small. The people in front of me stopped just inside the door to hand their raincoats on a coat rack, so I followed suit. They were two girls, one porcelain-colored blonde; the other also pale with light brown hair. At least my albino looking skin wouldn’t stand out here.

I took the slip to my teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate that identified him as Mr. Hawking. He barely took note of me, and I was grateful for the indifference. He sent me to an empty desk without making me introduce myself. It was harder for my new classmates to in the back of the class, but somehow, they managed. I kept my eyes down on the reading list my teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I’d already read everything. A breath of relief passed through me; at least my school load wouldn’t add to the stress of starting a new school.

When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with glasses and slicked back black hair leaned across the aisle to talk to me.

“You’re Isabella Swan, aren’t you?” He gave me chess club captain vibes, and that put me at ease. This guy seemed friendly and helpful, and I was glad to have someone to ask for help if need be.

  
“Bella,” and I wondered how this kid knew my name. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me. My cheeks turned red under everyone’s curious gaze.

  
“Where’s your next class?” he asked.

  
I fumbled around my bag and pulled out my class schedule, “Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building six.”

  
“I’m headed toward building four; I could show you the way . . .” He said with a nervous smile, and I smiled in relief back. At least someone else was just as anxious as I was.

  
“Yeah, thanks; that’d be great.”

  
We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. It was nice to get some cold air to help my nervous sweats cool down.

  
“So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?”

  
“Oh yeah, very. We never got more than three or four rainfalls a year there.”

  
“Wow, what must that be like?”

  
“Hot and dry. The Phoenix summers are not forgiving.”

  
“You don’t look very tan.”

  
That took me by surprise. A snort escaped me as I said, “That’s like the pot calling the kettle black, isn’t it?” As soon as I said that, the boy turned pink, and embarrassment washed over me. Damn my ADHD fueled impulsiveness. To try and salvage the situation, I quickly asked him, “By the way, I didn’t catch your name.”

  
He quickly responded, “Oh! It’s Eric.”

  
“Nice to meet you, Eric.”

  
After that, we walked in silence to the History building. When we got our destination, Eric walked me to the door and when I put was about to open the door, he turned to me and said, “Well, good luck. Maybe we’ll have some other classes together.” He had a hopeful look on his face, and I responded with a smile and a thank you.

  
The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would’ve hated anyway just because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made me stand up and introduce myself. I tried the best I could to not stammer out a response, but luck was never on my side. My blush didn’t go away until I got out of that class.

  
After two classes, I started to recognize several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who introduced themselves and asked me questions about how I was liking Forks. It wasn’t hard to be honest since I was excited to be at Forks, and quickly I made a few acquaintances.

  
One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than my five feet seven inches, but her wildly curly dark hair made up a lot of the between our heights. She was beautiful, and my gay heart was about to go into overdrive. Her name was Jessica, and all I could think about how soft her skin probably was.

  
We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she introduced to me. Unfortunately, I forgot all of their names as soon as Jessica said to them, and I made a mental note to try and get all of their names again later. They seemed impressed by her bravery in speaking to me, and Eric waved at me from across the room.

  
It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with seven curious teenagers, that I first saw them.

  
They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible in the long room. There were five of them. They weren’t talking, and they weren’t eating, though they had a tray of untouched food in front of them. They weren’t looking my way, so it was easy to stare at them without being noticed. But it was none of those things that caught my attention.

  
They didn’t look anything alike of the three boys, one big- muscles like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. The last was a slim, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they belonged to a college, not a high school.

  
The girls were opposites. The short girl was pixie-like, thin in the extreme, small features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped shirt and pointing in every direction. And the tall one was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her curling golden hair shimmered against the fluorescent lights. Her dark red lipstick complemented her plump lips, and she wore a blood-red shirt and a white denim jacket. Every part of her face was absolute perfection.

  
Everyone looked completely different in every way. And yet they all looked exactly alike. Everyone one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students in this sunless town. I was impressed that they had managed to outdo me on that front. They all had dark eyes despite the range of their hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes- purplish, bruiselike shadows. As if they all had chronic insomnia or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Though their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, angular.

  
But all this is not why I couldn’t look away.

  
I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except maybe on an airbrushed magazine, but even then, they were so unnaturally beautiful, it was almost disturbing. Like they were otherworldly, supernatural.

  
They were all looking away- away from each other, away from the other students, away from anything in particular as for as I could tell. As I watched, the small girl rose with her tray- unopened soda, unbitten apple- and walked away with a quick, graceful lope that belonged on a runway. I watched, amazed at her lithe dancer’s step, till she dumped her tray with her unopened food (which was super wasteful) and glided through the back door, faster than I would’ve thought possible. My eyes darted back to the others, who sat unchanged.

  
“Who are they?” I asked Jessica.

  
As she looked up to see who I meant, she suddenly looked at her, the blond goddess I had been admiring earlier. She looked at Jessica for half a second, and then her dark eyes flickered to mine.

  
She looked away quickly, more quickly than I could, though I dropped my eyes at once in a flush of embarrassment. In that brief flash of a glance, her face held nothing of interest- it was as if Jessica had called her name, and she’d looked up in involuntary response, and had already decided not to answer.

  
My neighbor giggled in embarrassment, looking at the table like I did.

  
“That’s Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one on the left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife.” She said under her breathe.

  
I glanced at the table again, and the gangly boy was pulling apart a bagel with his skeleton white fingers, and his mouth was moving very quickly, his lips barely opening. The other three still looked away, and yet I felt like he was quietly speaking to them.

  
Old, refined names, I thought. The kinds of names grandparents had. Everything about them was old, refined. Like they belonged in a museum.

  
“They are very . . . attractive,” I struggled with the conspicuous understatement.

  
“Yes!” Jessica agreed with another giggle. “They’re all together though- Edward and Rosalie, Emmett and Alice, I mean. And they all live together.” Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of any rational person, but all I could think about was how Rosalie was already taken by someone I could never compete with.

  
“Which ones are the Cullens?” I asked. “They don’t look at all related.”

  
“Oh, they’re not. Dr. Cullen is really young, in his twenties or early thirties. They’re all adopted. The Hales are brother and sister, twins- the blondes- and they’re foster children.”

  
“Wow, good for him.”

  
“Yeah, I guess,” Jessica conceded, “but it’s still weird. I mean, they’re siblings.” I agreed. It was weird. Siblings shouldn’t date no matter what. It helps that the ones together aren’t related, but still.   
  


“Have they always lived in Forks?”

  
“No,” she said in a voice that implied it should be obvious, even though it was my first day at this school, “They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska.”

  
I felt a surge of pity and relief. Pity because as beautiful as they were, they were outsiders, clearly not accepted, and relief that I wasn’t the only newcomer here, and certainly not the most interesting by any standard.

  
As I admired Rosalie, the youngest Cullen looked up and met my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. As I looked away swiftly, it seemed like his glance held some kind of unmet expectation.

  
“Which one is the boy with the reddish-brown hair?” I asked. I peeked at the table, and he was still staring at me, but not gawking like the other students had today; he had a slightly frustrated look on his perfect face. Anger started to form as I stared back at him. Who did this guy think he was? What had I ever done for him to look like I was a dog pooping on his lawn? I gave him my best bitch face, and he turned away. ‘That’s right,’ I thought to myself, ‘look away first, coward.’

  
“That’s Edward. He’s gorgeous, of course, but don’t waste your time. He doesn’t date. Apparently, none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him.” She sniffed, and I muffled a laugh. He must have rejected her hard.

  
“Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning on it. He’s not my type.” Jessica gave me a weird look, and I avoided her gaze.

  
‘I need to be more careful,’ I thought to myself, ‘this is a small town. No one can know I’m gay.’

  
After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. They all were noticeably graceful- even the big, bulky one. It was unsettling to watch. The one named Edward didn’t look in my direction again.

  
I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends for longer than I usually would have. I was anxious not to be late for class on my first day. One of my new acquaintances, who considerately reminded me her name was Angela, had Biology II with me the next hour. We walked to class together in silence. It was nice not to have to force conversation.

  
When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab table, exactly like the ones I was used to. She already had a neighbor too. In fact, all the tables are filled but one. Next to the center aisle, I saw Rosalie Hale, sitting next to the only open seat.

  
As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I watched her surreptitiously. Just as I passed, she suddenly went rigid in her seat. She stared at me, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on her face- it was hostile, furious. I looked away quickly, shocked, going red again. I stumbled over a book in the walkway and had to catch myself on the table’s edge. The girl sitting there giggled.

  
‘What did I do to this girl for her to look at me like I killed her cat?’

  
I’d noticed her eyes were black- coal black.

  
Mr. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no-nonsense about introductions. I could tell we were going to get along. Of course, he had no choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room. I kept my eyes down as I went to sit by her, bewildered by the hateful stare she had given me.

  
I didn’t look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw her posture change from the corner of my eye. She was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting her face as if she smelled something foul. My face turned tomato red as I sat there with her disgust hitting me in waves. Shame crept up, and I had to fight back the tears forming in my eyes. I had never felt so humiliated, and my mom had kicked me out for being gay. Eventually, I got myself under control and focused on the class at hand. Unfortunately, the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I had already learned in Phoenix. I carefully took notes anyway, always looking down.

  
After a while, I peeked a look towards my hostile neighbor. She was literally on the edge of her chair, and her face looked as if she smelled something rotten. She never relaxed her stiff position on her seat’s edge during the entire class, sitting as far away from me as possible. I could see her hand on her left leg was clenched in a fist, tendons standing out under her pale skin. This, too, never relaxed.

  
But despite all of this, Rosalie was still awe-inspiring. Her beauty was hard not to admire, and my heart was giving me very confusing signals. The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Though that probably because the person next to me hated my feeble existence.

  
‘What the fuck did I do to this girl? She has absolutely no reason to act this way. I don’t even smell bad!’ Suddenly fury gripped me as I began to think clearly about this situation. Jessica’s dislike of the family started to make sense if this was how the Cullens treated people they didn’t even know.

  
I looked down as not to alert my biology teacher and whispered in her direction, “I don’t know I did to make you act like a total cunt to me, but if you have a problem with me, say it to my fucking face.” Yeah, it was extremely rude, but at the moment, it felt justified.

  
We locked eyes, and if looks could kill, the look she was giving me would have obliterated my existence. Her black eyes were full of hatred, but I stood my ground and stared back with a look I hoped was intimidating. Just then, the bell rang, and she had her things and was out of her seat in an instant. I could barely even process how fast this girl was.

“Aren’t you Isabella Swan?” a male voice asked.

  
I looked up to see a cute, baby-faced boy, his pale blond hair carefully gelled into orderly spikes, smiling at me in a friendly way. He didn’t think I smelled terrible.

  
“Oh, it’s just Bella. Nice to meet you.”

  
“I’m Mike.”

  
“Hi, Mike.”

  
“Do you need any help in finding your next class?”

  
“I’m headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it.”

  
“That’s my next class, too.” He seemed thrilled, and even though I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts, I smiled and got up to join him.

  
We walked to the class together; he was a chatter- he supplied most of the conversation, making it easy for me. He’d lived in California till he was ten, and his parents owned a sports goods store. He was the nicest person I had met all day.

  
But as we entered the gym, he turned to me and asked, “So, did you stab Rosalie Hale with a pen or what? I’ve never seen her act like that.”

  
That made me cringe. So I wasn’t the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that wasn’t Rosalie Hale’s normal behavior. I decided to play dumb.

  
“Oh, so that was the girl sitting next to me.”

  
“Yeah,” he said, “She looked like she was in pain or something.”

  
“I don’t know what her problem was.”

  
“She’s weird. Honestly, their entire family is weird.” That rubbed me the wrong way. I didn’t like the tone of voice he used to describe Rosalie. Even though she had been terrible to me, I still felt the need to defend her.

  
“If I were lucky enough to sit next to you, I would have been nice to you.” My face froze as I processed what Mike said. I didn’t want to have to reject this kid if he was interested in me. That could blow my cover. Still, I smiled at him before I walked into the girls changing room.

  
The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform but didn’t make me dress down for that day’s class. Back at Phoenix, only two hours of P.E. was required. Here, P.E. was mandatory for all four years. This high school was turning out to be my own personal hell on Earth.

  
I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering how many injuries I had sustained- and inflicted- playing volleyball, I felt faintly nauseous.

  
After what felt like an eternity, the final bell rang. Slowly, I walked to the office to return my paperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong and colder. I wrapped my arms around myself as I enjoyed the solitude.

  
When I walked into the front office, I almost turned and walked out.

  
Rosalie Hale stood at the desk in front of me. I could recognize that beautiful blond hair anywhere. She didn’t appear to have noticed my presence in the room. I stood pressed against the wall, waiting for Ms. Smith to be free.

  
She was arguing with her in a low, attractive voice. Quickly, I picked up the gist of the argument. She was trying to trade from sixth- hour Biology to another time- any other time.

‘There’s no way this could be about me, could it?’ I thought in disbelief. It had to be something else, something that happened before I entered the Biology room. The look on her face must have been about another problem, right? How was it possible that this stranger could have taken such a sudden, intense hatred for me.

  
The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gushed through the room, rustling the papers on the desk, swirling my hair around my face. The girl who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the basket, and walked out. But Rosalie’s back stiffened, and she turned around slowly to glare at me- I couldn’t get over how absurdly gorgeous her face was- with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. She turned to the receptionist.

  
“Never mind, then,” she said hastily in a voice like velvet, “I can see that it’s impossible. Thank you for your time.” And she turned on her heel without another look at me and disappeared out the door.

  
I slowly walked up the counter, my face white instead of red for once, and handed her the signed slips.

  
“How was your first day, Bella?” Ms. Smith asked with a kind look on her face.

“It was fine.” I lied, my voice weak. She didn’t look convinced.

When I got to my truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed like a haven compared to the hell I had just experienced in school. I sat inside for a while, just sitting there staring out the windshield blankly. But soon, I was cold enough to bring the truck to live with a loud hum of the engine. I headed back home, tears streaming down my face. I knew I wasn’t lucky enough to have a good first day at school.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gay angst<3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it took so long for me to finish this chapter. I'm extremely depressed:) but I hope you guys enjoy.

The next day was better . . . and worse.

It was better because the rain wasn’t falling yet, and the sky was a beautiful shade of gray and blue. It was easier because I knew what to expect of my day at school. People didn’t look at me quite as much as they had yesterday. I sat with a big group at lunch that included Mike, Eric, Jessica, and several other people whose names and faces I now remember. I began to feel like I was treading water instead of drowning in it.

It was worse because I was tired; my anxiety wouldn’t let me rest, and the wind echoing in the house all night definitely didn’t help. It was worse because Mr. Varner called on me in Trig when my hand wasn’t raised, and I had the wrong answer. It was miserable because I had to play volleyball, and the one time I didn’t just miss the ball, I hit someone in the head with it. And it was worse because Rosalie Hale wasn’t in a school at all.

All morning I was anxious about lunch, wondering if Rosalie was going to kill me, or at the very least, humiliate me in front of everyone. Apart of me wanted to confront her again to see what issue she had with me. While I was lying sleepless in my bed, I even imagined what I would say. But I knew I wouldn’t have the guts to go through with it.

But when I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica, I saw four siblings sitting together at the same table. Rosalie was nowhere to be found.

Mike intercepted us and steered us to his table. Jessica seemed elated by the attention, and her friends quickly joined us. But as I tried to listen to their easy chatter, I felt uncomfortable, waiting nervously for the moment she would arrive. I hoped that Rosalie would simply ignore me when she came and prove my suspicions false. That she was just having a bad day yesterday and that her behavior had nothing to do with me.

She didn’t come, and as time passed, I grew more and more confused. Waw she sick or something?

I walked to Biology with more confusion when she still hadn’t shown by the end of lunch. Mike, who was starting to annoy me because of his constant talking, walked faithfully by my side to each class. It was beginning to worry me. This kid seemed nice enough, and I was sure he would’ve made any other girl happy, but I didn’t like men. And how was I going to let him down if he asked me out? What excuse did I have? I couldn’t trust someone with whom I had rejected that I was a lesbian. He’d tell everyone, and then I’d be a social outcast in an already small town.

As we walked into our Biology class, I held my breath, but Rosalie wasn’t there. Relief washed over me as I went to take my seat. Mike followed, talking about an upcoming beach trip. He lingered by my desk until the bell rang, much to my discomfort. Then he smiled at me wistfully and went to sit next to a girl with braces and frazzled curly hair.

I was relieved that I had the desk to myself, that Rosalie was absent. I told myself that repeatedly. But I couldn’t get rid of the nagging suspicion that I was egotistical, to think that I could affect anyone that strongly, especially someone like Rosalie. It was impossible. And yet I couldn’t stop worrying that it was true.

When the school day was finally over, and I finally got out of Gym, I changed quickly back into my jeans, my Nirvana t-shirt, and my favorite flannel. Then I hurried from the girl’s locker room, happy to find that I had evaded Mike for the time being. Swiftly I walked to the parking lot and hopped into my rusted beast.

The night before, I had discovered that Charlie couldn’t cook much besides fried eggs and bacon, so I took up the role to be assigned kitchen duty and grocery shopping. He was extremely willing to hand over that responsibility. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how he had survived for so long without someone living with him. That man needed some love, and I was determined to find him some. Charlie had no food in the house, so I had compiled a shopping list and grabbed the cash from the cupboard labeled FOOD MONEY and was on my way to Thriftway.

I gunned my truck’s deafening engine to life, ignoring the heads that turned in my direction, and backed carefully into a place in the line of cars waiting to exit the parking lot. As I waited, trying to pretend that the ear-splitting rumble was coming from someone else’s car, I saw the three Cullens and the one Hale twin getting in their vehicle. It was a shiny new Volvo. Of course. I hadn’t noticed their clothes before- I’d been too mesmerized by their faces. Now that I looked, it was apparent that they were all dressed exceptionally well, simply, but in clothes subtly hinting at designer origins. With their unnaturally good looks, they could have worn trash bags and pulled it off. It seemed unnecessary for them to have both good looks and money. But usually, that’s the way the world worked most of the time. It didn’t look as if it brought them any acceptance here, and that was strange. They could have power over the entire school, and yet they keep to themselves. It was weird. Everything about them is odd if I was honest with myself.

Their isolation had to be self-inflicted; I couldn’t imagine any door that wouldn’t be opened by the degree of their beauty.

They looked at my noisy truck as I passed them, just like everyone else. I kept my eyes straight forward and was relieved when I was finally free of the school grounds.

The Thriftway was not far from the school, just a few streets south, off the highway. It was nice to be inside the supermarket; it felt bittersweet. Grocery shopping had been my responsibility back in Phoenix, and it reminded me of a time when my mom didn’t hate me for who I was. Quickly I fell back into the pattern of the familiar task sadly. The store was big enough inside that I couldn’t hear the rain tapping on the roof to remind me I was no longer in Phoenix.

When I got home, I unloaded all the groceries, stuffing them wherever I could find an open space. I hoped Charlie wouldn’t mind. I wrapped potatoes in foil, stuck them in the oven to bake, covered the steak in a marinade, and balanced it on top of a carton of eggs in the fridge.

When I finished that, I took my book bag upstairs. Before starting my homework, I popped in an edible and laid down. I knew that I was running low on the gummies, and I’d need to find a dealer soon. That was the only way I was able to function as a human being, after all. I had smelled weed on Angela, and tomorrow I was planning on convincing her to sell me some.

Suddenly I got curious and went to check my email to see if my mom had messaged me. But after I waited for ten minutes for my computer to dial-up, I had no messages. ‘I guess she isn’t concerned about me, even though we haven’t talked since I left.’ Tears started to form in my eyes, and all I wanted to do was puff on a joint.

To distract myself from my sad and meaningless existence, I began to re-read Wuthering Heights- the novel we were currently studying in English- yet again for the fun of it, and that’s what I was doing when Charlie got home. I’d lost track of time, and I hurried downstairs to take out the potatoes from the oven and put in the stake to broil.

“Bella?” my dad called out when he heard me on the stairs.

A smile stretched across my face as I thought, ‘Who else?’

“Hey, Dad, welcome home.”

“Thanks, Bells.” He hung up his gun belt and stepped out of his boots, as I bustled about the kitchen. As far as I was aware, he’d never shot the gun on the job. But he kept it ready. When I came here as a child, he would always remove the bullets as soon as he walked in the door. I guess he considered me old enough now to not accidentally shoot myself in the face.

“What’s for dinner?” he asked warily. My mother was an imaginative cook, and her experiments weren’t always edible. I was surprised and sad that he seemed to remember small things my mother used to do when they were married.

“Steak, potatoes, and a salad.”

He seemed to feel awkward standing in the kitchen, doing nothing; he lumbered into the living room to watch TV while I worked.

I called him in when dinner was ready, and he sniffed appreciatively as he walked into the room.

“Smells good, Bella.”

“Thanks.”

We ate in silence for a few minutes. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence; just like the car ride from the airport, we sat in companionable silence that we had enjoyed together since I was a little girl.

“So, how do you like school? Have you made any friends?” he asked as he was taking seconds.

“Well, I have a few classes with a girl named Jessica. I sit with her friends at lunch. And there’s this boy, Mike, who’s very friendly. Everybody seems pretty nice.” With one outstanding exception. Rosalie haunted my thoughts, no matter the topic.

“That must be Mike Newton. Nice kid- nice family. His dad owns a sporting goods store just outside of town. He makes a good living off all the backpackers who come through here.”

“Do you know the Cullen family?” I asked with coal-black eyes on my mind.

“Dr. Cullen’s family? Sure. Dr. Cullen’s a great man.”

“They. . . the kids. . . are a little different. They don’t seem to fit in very well at school.”

Charlie surprised me with an angry look.

“People in this town,” he muttered, “Dr. Cullen is a brilliant surgeon who could probably work in any hospital in the world, make ten times the salary he gets here,” he continued, getting louder. “We’re lucky to have him- lucky that his wife wanted to live in a small town. He’s an asset to the community, and all of those kids are well behaved and polite. I had my doubts when they first moved in, with all those adopted teenagers. I thought we might have some problems with them. But they’re all very mature- I haven’t had one speck of trouble from any of them. That’s more than I can say for the children of some folks who have lived in this town for generations. And they stick together the way a family should- camping trips every other weekend . . . just because they’re newcomers, people have to talk.”

It was the longest speech I’d ever heard Charlie make. It made me nervous to think that he thought I had the same mindset as everyone else in town.

I back peddled, “They seem nice enough to me. I just noticed they keep to themselves. They’re all very, attractive.” I added, trying to be more complimentary.

“You should see the doctor,” Charlie said, laughing. “It’s a good thing he’s happily married. A lot of the nurses at the hospital have a hard time concentrating on their work with him around.”

We lapsed into silence as we for a few minutes, then I remembered a particular red-haired secretary at my school.

“So, Dad, I met someone at school the other day that said you two went to high school together. Her name was Ms. Smith. I didn’t catch her first name, though.” I watched him, trying to gauge his reaction. His cheeks reddened, and I had my answer.

“Uh,” he coughed, “did she have red hair? I, uh, went to high school with a girl named Rachel Smith.”

My head cocked to the side, and I raised an eyebrow. “You just went to school with her? She seemed to know you pretty well,” I lied, trying to get as much information out of him as possible.

Charlie laughed uncomfortably, “We, um, dated her before I married your mother. She was, nice.” he remarked lamely, not telling me the full truth. I decided to take a more blunt approach. I was never gonna get anything out of him if I didn’t.

“Well, she seemed like she was pretty interested in you. You might have a shot there.”

His cheeks turned a flaming red, and he coughed again, “Bella, I don’t need your help finding, anyone.”

I was sure my face was full of disbelief. “Dad. You haven’t dated anyone since Mom. You need to get yourself out there. Have a few drinks with a certain redhead who is definitely interested in you.”

My dad had a constipated look on his face, and I stood up, cleared the table, and left him with his thoughts. After I went upstairs, I heard the TV turned on, and I knew he would be distracted for a solid two hours. I quickly got out my meager stache of green; I couldn’t get Angela alone today, so I had gotten some shitty weed from a girl in my Biology who had given me a good deal, considering the smell of the buds. I slipped out my window and sat on the small roof section under my window. At that moment, I was glad no one lived close to us, and that they couldn’t see the Sheriff's daughter outside smoking a joint. I sat there for twenty minutes, letting the smoke fill my lungs, and all I could think about was a certain blonde who’s face haunted my mind.

She was the perfect target for my ADHD mind, a girl I didn’t know who was suspiciously perfect and had profound anger towards me? The ideal subject for my mind to prod at. I was tired of seeing coal-black stare into my soul with hatred, so I went back into my bedroom and stuck some earbuds in my ears and did some homework. It was better than thinking about Rosalie Hale.

That night it was quiet. I fell asleep, quickly, exhausted.

The rest of the week was uneventful. I was finally able to get Angela alone to get some good cannabis. She was hesitant at first, but soon I got her to sell me some. I got used to the routine of my classes, much to my relief. By Friday, I was able to recognize, if not name, almost all the students at school. In Gym, the kids in my class learned not to pass me the ball and step quickly in front of me if the other team tried to take advantage of my weakness. I was happy to stay out of their way.

Rosalie Hale didn’t come back to school.

Every day, I watched anxiously until the rest of the Cullens entered the cafeteria without her. This left me even more confused; why was she not in school? Was everything alright? I tried to distract myself at lunch by listening to my classmates’ chatter around me. Mostly it centered around a trip to La Push Ocean Park in two weeks that Mike was putting together. I was invited, and I had agreed to go, extremely excited to go to one of my favorite spots in Forks. I had always loved visiting the La Push beaches with my dad, and I was happy to see the familiar scenery.

By Friday, I was perfectly comfortable entering my Biology class, no longer worried that Rosalie would be there. I tried not to think about her, but I couldn’t suppress the worry that I was the reason for Rosalie’s continued absence, even though logically, it was self-centered of me to assume that I had that much power over a goddess like that.

My first weekend in Forks passed without incident and a shit ton of weed smoking. Charlie, unused to spending time in the empty house, worked most of the weekend. I was glad that he finally had someone in his life; he had been alone for too long. I cleaned the house, got all my homework done, and stared at my empty email inbox, having no hope my mom would message me and ask how I was doing.

The rain was a soft thudding on the roof every night, and I was able to sleep peacefully.

People waved and greeted me in the parking lot on Monday morning. I didn’t know all of their names, but I waved back and smiled at everyone. I didn’t want to look like a bitch. It was colder that morning with a slight rain that looked like it was turning into sleet. In English, Mike took the seat next to mine, much to my annoyance. We had a pop quiz Wuthering Heights, which was easy enough. All in all, not a bad start to my week.

When we walked out of class, the air was full of swirling bits of white. Excited shouts of teenagers filled the air, and the wind bit at my cheeks.

“Wow,” Mike said, “It’s snowing.”

I wanted to roll my eyes and mention his keen observation skills, but I kept quiet and continued to drudge on. Mike’s voice was starting to annoy me.

A big ball of dripping snow smacked into the back of his head. We both turned to see where it came from. I had my suspicions about Eric, who was walking away, his back toward us- in the wrong direction for his next class. Mike apparently came to the same conclusion and started to form a ball out of white slush.

“I’ll see you at lunch,” I kept walking as I spoke. “I am not interested in getting hit on the head with snow.”

Mike just nodded as he started to walk in Eric’s direction.

Throughout the morning, everyone chattered excitedly about the snow; it was the first snowfall of the year, according to Angela. Honestly, I couldn’t give to shits because I was stoned out of my mind. My dumbass thought it was a good idea to eat an edible AND smoke weed before school. Big mistake. I could barely walk in a straight line, much less know what the fuck was going on in class.

Jessica and I walked to the cafeteria together, avoiding snowballs flying everywhere. Apart of me wanted to join in the fun, but I also didn’t want wet clothes all afternoon, so I chose to shield myself from the onslaught with my binder. Jessica apparently thought this was the funniest thing in the world and laughed at me so loudly that other people turned and stared. Just like Mike, she was starting to get on my nerves. I started thinking about making different friends.

Mike, unfortunately, caught up to us as we walked to the doors. He and Jessica were talking animatedly about the snow fight as we got in line to buy food. I glanced toward the table in the far corner of the cafeteria. My entire body froze as I stood there. Five people were sitting at the table.

Jessica pulled on my arm, “Hello? Bella? What do you want?”

I looked down, my skin feeling clammy. ‘I have nothing to feel worried about,’ I reminded myself, ‘Rosalie isn’t going to kill me or anything.’

“What’s wrong with Bella?” Mike asked Jessica.

“Nothing,” I answered, “I just don’t feel that well. I’m just gonna get a soda today.” I caught up to the end of the line.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Jessica asked.

I wanted to roll my eyes, “Like I said, not feeling that well.”

I waited for them to get their food, and then followed them to a table, my eyes looking anywhere other than where the Cullens sat.

As I sat there, sipping my soda slowly, my stomach was churning, thinking about the upcoming class I would be having with Rosalie. Mike asked twice if I was feeling alright, and each time I just nodded my head and kept looking at the table in front of me. Apart of me wanted to just skip class and go out into the woods to smoke weed, but I knew that somehow Charlie would find out, and I didn’t want to have to make up some bullshit to keep from getting grounded. The other part of me was outraged that I would even consider letting this girl keep me from going to class. If she had a problem with me, then she could say it to my face.

I decided that if Rosalie was glaring at me, I would go do illegal drugs in the woods. I looked across the room under my eyelashes and saw that none of them were looking at me, so I lifted my head to examine them.

They were all laughing. Edward, Jasper, and Emmett all had their hair entirely saturated in melted snow. Alice and Rosalie were leaning away as Emmett shook his dripping hair towards them. They were enjoying the snowy day, just like the rest of the student body.

But aside from the laughter and playfulness, there was something off about them. The more I looked and the more I studied them, an idea kept coming up in my mind; supernatural. The way they move, the way they look, as though they’re all in a deep conversation, yet their mouths barely move. They always have trays full of food, but they never eat it.

‘Aliens?’ my mind supplied, and that seemed like a likely conclusion.

“Bella, what are you looking at?” Jessica intruded, her eyes following my stare.

At that exact moment, Rosalie’s eyes shot up, meeting my gaze.

I looked away quickly, turning away from the family. The instant our eyes met, her eyes didn’t look murderous or harsh. They were curious, as if I was a puzzle she was trying to solve. It caused my face to go beet red.

“Rosalie Hale is staring at you,” Jessica whispered in my ear.

“Does she look pissed?”

“No,” she said, sounding confused, “should she be?”

“Last time we met . . . let’s just say she wasn’t a happy camper.”

“I wouldn’t take it personally. The Cullens don’t like anybody, and Rosalie is a complete bitch. It’s like she thinks she’s god’s gift to Earth. She’s still staring at you, by the way.”

I shot up out of my seat, “I need some air,” I said to Jessica and grabbed my bag and soda, and walked out of the cafeteria, not taking my eyes off the door. I walked quickly to my car and slammed the door, the car frame creaking and groaning. I pulled the console open and grabbed a pack of cigarettes and my lighter. Soon I was puffing blue smoke out of my window, cigarette in hand, and tried to calm myself down. Jessica’s statement was repeating in my mind, her face holding contempt and hate. The rage I felt at her words was unexplainable. Rosalie had been like Jessica said, a complete bitch to me. But something inside me wanted to stand up for her, and then it dawned on me; I had a crush. A laugh broke out of my mouth, and soon my body was shaking from laughter. It took five minutes to finally be able to breathe, and my cheeks ached.

‘A crush. Could my mommy issues be any more obvious? As soon as I moved to a new town, I get a crush on a girl who practically hates me. Go figure.’ Quickly I smoked the last of my cigarette, got out of my car, and sprayed body spray all over my body, hopefully masking the smell of cigarette smoke. The snow had quickly turned into rain, washing away the evidence of the snowfall from earlier. I walked to my Biology class, and when I walked through the door, no one was in the room. I took my regular seat, got out my notebook and a pen, and started drawing aimlessly on the paper.

Mr. Banner came into the room not long after me and started putting microscopes and a box of slides on each of the desks around the room. He barely even registered my presence in the room, just nodding at me as he put the supplies on my desk.

Rosalie’s face was swirling through my mind as my classmates started coming in through the door. The class didn’t start for a few minutes, and the room buzzed with conversation. I kept my head down and doodled trees on my notebook paper. I could feel Mike staring at me, but I ignored him. I didn’t want to have to explain my strange behavior in the lunchroom.

The chair next to me scraped against the floor, and I kept my head down. I could feel a slight blush spreading across my cheeks, and I was hoping the goddess to my left would just ignore me.

“Hello,” a low sweet voice rang in my ear. In shock at her introduction, my body froze, shocked that she spoke to me after what I said last week.

‘How was her voice just as attractive as she was?’

My eyes slid over to Rosalie. She was sitting on the edge of the seat next to me, her hair cascading down her back and shoulders, her eyes a beautiful amber. The week before, they had been coal-black. My theory about her family being aliens was solidifying in my mind.

“My name is Rosalie Hale,” she continued. “I didn’t have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Bella Swan.”

I just stared at her, my expression completely incredulous. ‘I am going insane? What the fuck does that mean, “I didn’t have time to introduce myself,”? You just sat next to me for an hour, staring at me like I murdered your cat. This girl has to be alien.’

Instead of calling out her for completely ignoring our previous encounter, I said, “How do you know my name?”

She laughed softly, “Oh, I think everyone knows your name. The whole town was waiting for you to arrive.” This caught me off guard and almost distracted me from my actual question.

“No,” I persisted, “I mean, why did you call me Bella?”

She seemed confused, “Do you prefer Isabella?”

I shook my head, “No, I like Bella. But everyone else called me Isabella when I first got here, and you never asked me my name.”

Rosalie looked surprised at first, then smiled at me with a critical look in her eyes, “You don’t miss anything, do you?”

I matched her persistent stare and just said, “Nope.”

A smile crept up in her face, and she turned her head away. Mr. Banner started class, and I forced my gaze to the front of the room. Our conversation made my head spin. She hadn’t seemed mad at me like I assumed she was. Had I hallucinated our discussion from last week? No, Mike had commented on her strange behavior right after it happened, so that wasn’t it. Did she just want to ignore what happened?

Mr. Banner interrupted my internal thoughts and started to explain the lab for today. The slides in the box were out of order. Working as lab partners, we had to separate the onion root tip cells’ slides into the phases of mitosis they represented and label them accordingly. We weren’t supposed to use our books. In twenty minutes, he would be coming around to see who had it right.

“Get started,” he commanded.

“You start,” Rosalie said while sliding the microscope towards me. My eyes glanced at her to see she had a crooked smile so beautiful that I’m sure my face flushed completely red.

I cleared my throat and answered, “Yeah, sure.”

I was showing off a little bit. I’d already done this lab, and I knew what I was looking for. It was easy. I snapped the first slide into place under the microscope and adjusted it quickly to the 40x objective. I studied the slide briefly.

“Prophase,” I said, confident in my assessment.

“Do you mind if I look?” she asked as I began to remove the slide. Her hand caught mine, to stop me, as she asked. Her fingers were ice cold like she’d been keeping her hands in a freezer. The touch sent a shock through my hand, and our eyes met. She jerked her hand away, and I pulled my hand back in surprise.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. She continued to pull the microscope towards her and examined the slide for an even shorter time than I had.

“Prophase,” she agreed, writing it down as she spoke. She swiftly switched out the first slide for the second, and then examined it.

“Anaphase,” she murmured, writing it down as she spoke.

I tried to keep my voice indifferent and said, “May I?”

She smirked and pushed the microscope to me. I looked through the eyepiece eagerly, only to be disappointed. She was right.

“Slide three?” I held out my mind without looking at her.

She handed it to me; it seemed like she was careful not to touch my skin again.

I took the most fleeting look I could manage.

“Interphase.” I passed her the microscope before she could ask for it. She took a swift peek and then wrote it down. I would have written it while she looked, but her clear, elegant script intimidated me. I didn’t want to spoil the page with my chicken scrawl.

We were finished before anyone else was close. I could see Mike and his partner comparing two slides again and again, and another group had the book open under their table.

Which left me with nothing to to do but try not to stare at her . . . unsuccessfully. I glanced up, and she was staring at me, a look of frustration in her eyes. Suddenly I remembered a thought I had earlier.

“Did you get contacts?” I blurted out.

She seemed surprised by the question, “No.”

“Your eyes were black last week. Now they’re amber.”

Rosalie narrowed her eyes and looked away. I looked down and saw that her hands were clenched into hard fists.

Mr. Banner came to our table then to see why we weren’t working. He looked over our shoulders to glance at the complete lab, and then stared more intently to check the answers.

“So, Rosalie, didn’t you think Isabella should get a chance with the microscope?”

“Bella,” Rosalie corrected, “Actually, she identified three of the five.”

Mr. Banner looked at me now, his expression skeptical.

“Have you done this lab before?”

I nodded, “Not with onion root, though.”

“Whitefish blastula?”

“Yes.”

Mr. Banner nodded, “Were you in advanced placement program in Phoenix?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” he said after a moment, “I guess it’s good you two are lab partners.” He mumbled something else as he walked away. After he left, I started doodling in my notebook again.

“It’s too bad about the snow, isn’t it?” Rosalie asked.

I got the feeling she was forcing herself to make small talk with me. I just shrugged my shoulders and said, “Not really.”

“You don’t like the cold.” It wasn’t a question.

“Or getting wet.” I kept thinking about Mike getting pelted in the head with sludge, and it made me smile.

“Forks must be a difficult place for you to live.”

“Honestly, I love Forks. I would just rather avoid being soaked in thirty-degree weather.”

“Why did you move to Forks?” Rosalie inquired.

The question took me by surprise. No one had asked me that question, not even Charlie. I wasn’t sure how to answer.

“My Mom and I . . . we didn’t get along very well. And it just seemed in everyone’s best interest for me to move in with my Dad.” Rosalie narrowed her eyes, and it felt like she knew that I wasn’t the whole truth.

To change the subject, I said, “So, why did you and your family move to Forks?”

Rosalie smiled a coy smile and said, “My mother wanted to move to a small town, and this seemed like the best fit.” An average answer, but something was telling me that wasn’t the full story. I decided to let it go because who am I to shame people for keeping secrets?

“You don’t seem to be happy here.” My eyes widened in surprise and anger. I looked down and started to draw doodles again.

“You put on a good show,” she said slowly, “But I’d be willing to bet that you’re suffering more than you let anyone see.”

My gaze did not stray from my work.

“Am I wrong?”

I continued to ignore her.

“I didn’t think so,” she murmured in a smug voice.

That was the last straw. I whipped my head up and glared at my desk mate, “Why do you care? Last week you treated me like a murderer, and now you’re interested in my life? Please do me a favor and decide whether or not you want to hate me or interrogate me.”

She looked away, and I looked back down.

After a long moment, she responded, “I’m sorry. You’re right; I was extremely rude. I’ll leave you alone from now on.” My heart sunk to the ground, and I could feel the blood rush out of my face. At that moment, I was heartbroken, and I had no idea why. I had had two interactions with this girl; there was no way I was in love with her. But the thought of her not being in my life sounded like torture, and I had no idea why. My stomach made a sound, and my body filled with nausea.

My arm shot up, “Mr. Banner, I’m not feeling too great. Can I go to the nurse?” I’m not sure if it was the tone in my voice or the look on my face, but he nodded without question, so I got my bag and got the fuck out of there.

My legs felt weak as I all but ran to the nurse, my body protesting the whole time. My head was spinning, and I felt like I was going to faint. Luckily I had just arrived at the school office, and Ms. Smith greeted me as I walked through the door.

“Hi, Bell- are you ok? Do you need to sit down?” I just nodded, and she guided me to the nurse’s office, where an ancient woman in a blue sweater got up as soon as we walked in.

“Oh dear, what happened?” she asked, a concerned look in her eyes.

I nodded my head and said, “Yeah, I just got a little sick in Biology. I-I’m fine.”

Neither of the two women looked like they believed me. The only good thing about the situation was that I got to skip Gym and hideaway in the nurse’s office, sipping water and trying not to pass out. My reaction was probably due to a lack of food in my system, and it made me feel stupid for not thinking about that before. A soda and a cigarette isn’t the ideal lunch. After school ended, I convinced the two other women in the office that I would get a ride home from a friend, knowing full well I was just going to drive myself home.

When I got to the parking lot, everyone was milling around. Mike tried to wave me down, but I pretended not to see him and jumped in my car. I swept my eyes across the parking lot, spotting Rosalie standing next to their Volvo, staring at me. I leaned over the seat and pulled out a cigarette, put it in my mouth, and revved the engine to life. I pulled out of the parking lot as quickly as I could. Cigarette smoke filled the car, and I rolled down the car window to feel the slap of cold air on my skin. Anything to help the pit in my stomach go away.


End file.
